Warforge
(#15948204)
Level 4 Guardian
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Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
15.58 m
Wingspan
19.71 m
Weight
9883.44 kg
Genetics
Black
Clown
Clown
Mulberry
Eye Spots
Eye Spots
Steel
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Guardian
EXP: 121 / 4027
STR
16
AGI
7
DEF
8
QCK
16
INT
5
VIT
12
MND
6
Biography
Warforge
Retired Blacksmith
Retired Blacksmith
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Biography (Written by Erenee13 with slight alterations by VoxxVoleur, other additions by Deathspecter and Catkinstarchild): Warforge, the once beloved blacksmith. She worked hard for many long years. She made many weapons and sets of armour for the clan to defend itself against the terrible beast clans. There are times, when she remembers the feeling of the hot metals heat upon her face, the sweet smell of burning coals, and her favourite sound of sizzling metal put into water to cool. Her happiest memories. But then, there were darker ones; the tang of blood and ash in her mouth, the cries of the fallen; certain triggers can recall those memories to her mind, and she would try to do her job again, her hands itching to work, her heart full of fear of the battles that always seemed inevitable, inescapable- she’d make it as far as the blacksmithing hut, before the sound of the hammer falling, the cheerful chatter of her young apprentice working as ever on whatever the clan needed most at the moment, broke through her hazy reverie and instead Warforge would sit back down outside the hut, lie still, and settle her flaming heart. When she found a new spot in Death Clan the other dragons welcomed her with open wings. Cerberus gave her a position within the clan and she again helped to train a blacksmith for her new clan, but the work seemed never-ending. She longed to return to her retired life of relaxation and chatting with fellow clan members. Warforge loved being retired. When Aurora came into her skill with blacksmithing, Warforge was glad to give her job to the newcomer. She had been contemplating whether to leave her current clan to explore another. There wasn’t much holding her from leaving the clan, since her attachments had never really lasted, and most of her children had long since gone off on their own. After a season of staying with the Death Clan, and watching them rise to their feet, Warforge decided it was time to go on looking for new adventures. On the Way to Oakheart Written by Catkinstarchild Life was harder on the road than she had thought, and she was no longer a youngster with a spring in her step. Her bones ached away from the constant heat of the forge fires, and her flame-tanned hide was brittle and cracked. She turned back, but on her way across Fire territory, she found it. Her Charge, a spirit of lava crying out in the middle of a battlefield. The bodies were strewn far and wide, some survivors limped amongst them, weeping- the broken swords and shields and armour heralded them as a former rival’s clan. That was not all of what she found, though- worst of all, she recognised some of the hallmarks of the weapons the attackers had left behind- they were hers. Hers. Her swords, spears, morningstars, daggers- weapons intended to protect, to conserve life, to fight the Shade and hordes of beastclans- but instead, they had been turned, dragon against dragon. She felt sick to the stomach, and fell weeping at the foot of the volcano, whose heart had been cracked open and bled forth fire, like burning red-gold tears in mourning for its clans folk, whose own blood soaked the ash underfoot. The clan’s shaman, grey with weariness, approached Warforge hesitantly. He claimed that the spirit of the volcano spoke to him, asked for Warforge to spare it. To save it, as it was dying, with all its followers gone, with its heart pierced and its fire fading fast. Warforge replied that all she was good for, was coal for the fire. Better that, than to create more harm, enable more death. The shaman disagreed, inclined his head, and spoke the incantation over Warforge’s brow; Warforge leapt willingly into the incandescent, flaming heart of the mountain, and when she emerged, it was imbued with the spirit of lava which she carries with her today. Warforge is the forge master, by dint of age, experience, skill, and a tongue even more searing with well-aimed critique than her actual flaming breath. Which, considering she houses a living spirit of a volcano slumbering inside her barely draconic form, is something to be reckoned with. She doesn’t make weapons anymore- or, that’s what she says if anyone asks. She says she’s set aside weaponsmithing, says she won’t allow it in her forge. Says, the first dragon to try smithing weapons for use on other dragons, will have that self same weapon welded permanently to their arms, together, and aimed inwards. She is though, generally, a fair-minded and unflappable dragon. It takes a lot, to make her angry, or to raise her ire. She is an unrelenting taskmaster, expects perfection- or at least, the constant stretch toward it, in everything her apprentices do. Technically, Frangelico is not her apprentice, being far more adept in fine filigree work and dainty impossibly beautiful jewellery than she could ever hope to be, with her cracked rock hands and glowing fire eyes, but she still regards him and his impractical but pretty creations as her responsibility, or at least her concern. Sooty, the meteorite child who nearly burned down half the forest when he arrived, causing the worst disaster ever to strike Oakheart, is her actual apprentice. She caught him casually casting fire magic with precision and natural flair, in order to bring the brightness out in a metal crown, and instead of reporting him for reckless endangerment again- as he was on lifetime probation with strict good behaviour bond for nearly killing everyone- she instead gave him a job. It keeps him out of trouble, teaches him good values, and gives him a safe (ish) outlet for his natural talents. He is the draconic bellows operator and forge-fire keeper, to which he is preternaturally suited since he can tell whenever a fire is nearby, and its health- if it is growing, falling, or needs tending. She is steadily teaching him all of the forging arts, however, and the student takes great care never to show up his master; after all, he loves working with her. And a giant guardian made out of living fire and molten rock is the closest thing to a family he could have, being a flaming meteorite made flesh himself. She refuses to teach him weapons making, saying she doesn’t want to see her works ever turned against dragon again. The truth is though, that she does sometimes miss the finesse in folded steel; in triple tempering thunderbolt iron; the painstaking hours upon hours working with alchemy and a pinch of magic to bring that edge to a perfect shining bite that you could almost taste on the air. So, once every so often, she indulges- but these works of exquisite artistry are locked carefully, lovingly away in her own personal vault below the smithy, and trapped so that a would-be thief would be only ‘might-be’ for the next thirty seconds, before a hidden lava spring would flood the entire basement and engulf them forever in molten rock. There are a few exceptions. Goldentop, as a point of pride, was the first thief to make it inside, but got caught because she couldn’t actually lift anything, metaphorically or literally despite her best efforts, and got stuck under a gilt broadsword and had to call for help. Warforge told her that she’d only let her out if Goldentop swore on her reputation as a thief that she would never rob, steal, borrow, burgle, or in any way, even by proxy, enter or even mention Warforge’s secret vault again. But just in case, Warfare set up the failsafe. She, was fireproof. Almost no one else was. Glitter still turns up, in the vault, at odd times. Warforge suspiciously eyes Goldentop whenever they cross paths in the clan grounds for a few days, but nothing is ever out of place, so she can only assume the fae has heeded the warning. Either that, or she got a LOT better. Never exalt (I promised the owner I got her from), return her to @DeathSpecter if you ever don't want her. From DeathSpecter’s rescue centre, to Sun Soul Clan, then Oakheart Clan for her well-earned retirement. |
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